“It could. The Battle of Mount Tenji was as crushing for the Ceurans as it was for Alitaera. King Usasi and his son and seven daughters were all killed; that was so devastating to the country that after that time Ceuran women were no longer taught the sword. The regency was established both because of the profound respect for tradition engrained in Ceuran culture, and the fact that the first Regent had no blood claim to the throne. The other contenders realized a regency meant that they themselves could hold power without needing a blood claim, if only they were powerful enough to take it. It suited everyone, and the myth of the coming High King gave them a hope of future glory. Our scholars’ best guess is that there was a High King who ruled those lands for a single generation in the dark centuries that followed Jorsin Alkestes’ fall.”

“Wasn’t Alkestes himself called the High King?”

“Rarely. In the early years of his reign, he ruled over seven kings and styled himself the High King. Three of the seven—Rygel the Blue, Einarus Silvereyes, and Itarra Lachess—rebelled. After that, Jorsin was Emperor Alkestes. We don’t know if the latter High King claimed descent from Jorsin or not—almost all records of him were lost in the dark ages—but he only claimed the lands now encompassing Ceura, Cenaria, Khalidor, and Lodricar, not all of Jorsin’s kingdoms.”

The ambassador looked unimpressed. “So that’s it? A long-dead legend?”

Istariel said, “Well, the magi give some credence to a prophet or two whom we don’t recognize.”

“And they know more?”

“They don’t know more. They believe more.”

“By the God’s beard! I don’t care what’s true—I care what people believe! What are these prophecies?”

Istariel gave him a look that let him know he was treading on thin ice and didn’t answer until he looked on the brink of apologizing. “They say he will be a dragon—the accepted interpretation is that he’ll be Talented, though any conqueror brings fire. They say he will raise a standard of death—I hope that’s clear enough, things aren’t going to be all prancing ponies and cuddly kittens. Then the prophecies get strange. They say he’ll bring peace—peace everlasting is a pretty normal staple of prophecies, right? Well, these prophecies say he’ll bring peace for two years or eighteen. They say his coming will open the way for the return of Jorsin Alkestes, who will both be taken under his wing, and test the mettle or taste the metal—it’s unclear which—of his sword.”

“When was this prophecy given?” the ambassador asked.

“Five years ago. A magus named Dorian, who claimed to be a rogue Ursuul. Not exactly a reliable source.”

“It sounds like a nightmare.”